Never Know
by Ceville
Summary: He often watches her while she sleeps. Sebastian takes a moment to reflect over his feelings for the little mistress he serves. girl!Ciele/Sebastian.


**Never Know.  
By Sky-Pirate325. **

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, absoloutely nothing in this ficlet. Though I'd gladly have myself a demon butler, maybe without the whole soul-selling part?

**Author's Note: **I know I'm treading into shark-infested, Ciel/Sebastian shipping waters, but I've had these ideas rolling around my head since my cousin introduced me to Kuroshitsuji. So I had to get it out there.

Oh! That reminds me, in this ficlet twelve year old Ciel is actually eighteen year old Ciele. So I've changed him into a girl, and made her older. Because I'm really not a fan of yaoi but the relationship between the two characters just has so many possibilities and undertones. So I hope you peoples still like it even though I did that.

This isn't about an OC, this isn't a self-insertion, it's just a oneshot I had to write to satisfy my kuroshitsuji cravings without crossing my self-imposed line of yaoi and pedophilia. So sorry if that annoys anyone. **PS: I accidentally on purpose deleted the original posting of this story, mostly due to me being upset about one particular review. I'm overly sensitive, I can't help it. xD**

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**_H_**e often watched her.

Usually when she was slumbering or so caught up in a task that she wouldn't notice his scrutiny. It was not because he was abashed about her noticing, it was more to prevent the asking of an inevitable question in such a situation.

_What are you doing? _She would ask.

He would reply truthfully, as he could not lie to her, and state that he was watching her. It was the next question that would fall from those rosy lips, every syllable enunciated slowly and with a dignity most humans could only dream of possessing.

_Why are you watching me? _She would ask.

It would be at this point that he would be trapped, unable to lie to her because of the contract but unwilling to answer because he himself was unsure of the answer. He had an inkling, a small niggling feeling behind the observing he often found himself doing.

But it was unsavoury. Bitter and repulsive and repugnant and all manner of negative adjectives. It couldn't possibly be the _real _reason behind his watching of her.

His little mistress.

She was unusually headstrong for a human, and a female human at that, never giving in to any other members of her species save for the situations with those she believed to be her superiors. Such as that annoying imposter of a Queen. The little heiress was above that dreadful creature, and to see her submit and obey every beck and call of the monarch was enough to make him retch.

And it took a hell of a lot to make him retch, with no pun intended.

Grovelling and bowing was terribly unbecoming of his little mistress, oh yes, especially since he knew just how fiery and demanding and stern and commanding she could be. Even with him, and if anything noteworthy could be said of the little heiress, it was that she feared nearly no-one.

It was a rare trait to find amongst any human, let alone one of barely eighteen winters, the ability to stand with one's head held high in even the direst of situations. Most would call it admirable, and though he, a demon of the darkest intent and personality, often found such a characteristic troublesome and irritating; in her it was tolerable. At times, she seemed more of a demoness than a human, manipulating situations to her own benefit with a cold detachment and apathy that he found almost admirable.

He may even have been proud of her in certain situations, though he would never admit to it.

Certainly not to her.

He tilted his head, usually crimson eyes a docile deep red, and those glinting orbs studied her profile. He already knew every feature, every freckle, every blemish -though there were incredibly few of these- and every single part of her. After having realised this a few months prior, he'd stubbornly told himself it was a part of his duty. A part of the role of butler for the Phantomhive household.

He knew though. He was no fool.

After three or so years of serving her, he now found himself oddly... attached to the girl, who was slowly becoming a woman before his eyes. The transition had not been as monumental nor surprising as it was with some adolescent female humans. For even as a child-adolescent, Ciele Phantomhive had been beautiful, he could admit that.

He had of course noticed the changes, the way each dress and article of clothing was more filled in the upper torso area, what had once been amusingly flat now softly swelled in a way that attracted the eye of many a young men; noble or common. Her body had changed, slowly as each day passed, with soft, smooth curves taking the place of childish contours; curves practically begging, pleading to have hands trace them.

Her facial features remained the same, almost exactly the way they'd been earlier. Perhaps her cheeks had thinned, her face had narrowed as the 'baby fat' as he knew humans called it disappeared. She was still beautiful. He may not have appreciated humans, or their lives, or what they often stood for and believed in, but he could appreciate beauty when he saw it; regardless of the fact he knew in a few years, a few decades, those whom had once been stunningly beautiful would be reduced to a withered, shrivelled shadow of what they'd once been.

His mistress would not be the same, he sensed this much. She would age gracefully. She would not be reduced to what all the others would be reduced to. She would be proud and strong and just as fiery and commanding as she was now, in her youth. Or at least, she may have been able to, had her fate taken a different direction. With her soul promised to him, he guessed she had a few years left at the most.

Or perhaps she had more. He was uncertain of that, for he knew not when the terms of the contract would be met. There was nothing wrong with that, though, he was content to play the part of an ever-dutiful butler. He would watch and observe and protect and obey. As was expected of a Phantomhive butler.

She let out a little sigh, finely shaped eyebrows drawing together, mostly hidden beneath the choppy fringe and wild ringlets that together formed her hair, as her seemingly perfectly shaped lips twisted into a frown. She muttered something, the words being mostly gibberish, but his ears perked at three syllables that escaped those enticing lips.

_Sebastian._

He tilted his head again, his own eyebrows furrowing elegantly at her murmuring of the name she'd given him. She was most likely dreaming, as humans often did, but of all the things to dream of, why dream of him? He would be the one to deliver judgement upon her, he would take what she had promised him in an ancient ritual and in doing so, take her life from her. He found her species, though beautifully thick and gullible, both disgusting and irritating at the best of times.

And yet... She was dreaming of him.

How curious humans were. Some of them anyway, his little mistress was far more entertaining and interesting then most. A rare commodity amongst the common folk. A gem amongst rubble. She stood out, much like a solitary flower, and though many attempted to cut her down, she did not allow it. Whether through the use of that deceptively sharp tongue he knew he could find a far more pleasant use for, or through the contract itself; she always remained standing tall with her head held high. Yes, she was definitely more of a demon than a human at times.

And while he thought over all of the positive things about his mistress, about all of the things that drew him to her, he found himself hating them. Every aspect that appealed to him he loathed with every fibre of his being.

She made him suffer an affliction that no demon should ever have to suffer from. She made him doubt his own thoughts. She made him confused and puzzled and bemused. She made him feel emotions that were weak and pointless and so sickeningly human he found himself repulsed by his own behaviour.

He knew, he was no fool, he knew why he did all that he did. Why the concerned facade he'd used to begin with was now less a facade and more real concern for her. Why the tasks he'd set out completing and achieving to begin with to please her so that the contract might be completed sooner were now accomplished out of a shameful need to please her solely for her benefit. Why he found himself standing in her bedchambers while she slept, having these inner turmoils and battles when he should have been doing something else, anything else. Why he loathed her for reducing him to this pathetic state.

Oh yes, he knew.

And he hated her for it.

He hated her for making him love her.

_Sebastian._

He took slow, graceful steps towards the bed, as quiet and predatory as always, until his shadow fell upon her; the moonlight streaming in through a window the curtains had been pulled back from blocked by his figure. Daringly, he leaned down, watching her curiously, and slowly, he ran a finger down her cheek; the appendage for once without a glove.

She shivered, eyebrows furrowing again, and when a soft, croon-like cry escaped her lips at the contact between their skin, he knew he had to leave her bedchambers now. Before she forced him into doing something she would regret, for he could not truly regret something he so longed for. Regardless of how much he abhorred her for making him long for it in the first place.

He pulled his hand away, watching her carefully, and though he was telling himself to back away, to keep backing away until he was out of that door and walking down the hall, he found himself leaning closer to her. Leaning closer until his hair was millimetres from brushing her face, and his lips millimetres from her own. He shouldn't have been doing so. He shouldn't have been tempted. It should have been her being tempted, that was how it had always been before. Before he'd met her. It had always been the snivelling humans, begging at his feet like the dogs they were for attention and _affection_ and _love_; all of them pathetic. But he found himself unable to resist, and with a gentleness he'd never showed another, he brushed his lips against her own; revelling in the second little sigh that escaped her.

He pulled back, smiling at her in a way he'd never do so when she was awake, and ran the back of his finger up and down her cheek, wishing her could see her eyes, two pools, one of dazzling blue and the other marking her as his, bearing the seal he too bore on his hand. He left her room, padding down one of the many halls of the manse towards the room he'd been given.

She would never know of this.

She would never know of the sickeningly human emotions she evoked within him.

She would never know how much he loved her.

And she would never know how much he hated her for making him love her.

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**Author's Note: **There. It's out of my system.  
Leave a review, let me know what you thought.  
I'd really appreciate it. :D  
I really don't appreciate flames though, if you've got criticism, explain why and make it constructive thanks.


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